She collapsed into sobs, huge breath-robbing sobs. Refusing to look at Helen, she planted her face in her hands. Her warrant card lay on the coffee table where she’d dropped it.
So this was it. All Helen had to do was pick it up. Charlie would be paid off and that would be that. Helen had got what she wanted.
But Helen knew immediately that she wouldn’t pick it up. She had wanted rid of Charlie, but now, on the cusp of victory, Helen felt ashamed of her selfishness and cowardice. What right did she have to drive Charlie out, to consign her to a wilderness of bitterness and regret? She was supposed to help people. To save them, not damn them.
‘I’m sorry, Charlie.’
Charlie’s sobbing paused momentarily, before continuing in a lower key. Helen seated herself next to Charlie.
‘I’ve been a bitch. And I’m sorry. It’s… it’s my weakness, not yours… I still have Marianne on my skin, in my blood. I can’t shake her. Or Mark. Or you. Or that day. I’ve been screaming and shouting, running away, hoping that I can rub out the memories if I push everything and everyone away. I wanted to push you away. Which was cruel and selfish. I’m really sorry, Charlie.’
Charlie looked up, her eyelashes wet with tears.
‘I knew what you were feeling, but I didn’t help you. I kicked you when you were down and that’s unforgivable. But I’d like you to forgive me if you can. It was never about you.’
Helen paused a moment before continuing:
‘If you want to walk away, start a family, do normal things, then I won’t stand in your way. I’ll make sure you get whatever you need to start over. But if you change your mind, I want you back… I need you back.’
Charlie’s crying had ceased now, but she still refused to look up.
‘We’re hunting a serial killer, Charlie. I haven’t said that out loud yet, because I didn’t want it to be true. Didn’t believe it could happen again. But it is and now I… I can’t stop her.’
Helen’s voice wavered momentarily, before she recovered her composure. When she next spoke her voice was firm, but quiet.
‘I can’t stop her.’
Helen left shortly afterwards, having said too much, yet still not enough. She had failed to be a good leader, copper or friend. Was it too late to pull something from the wreckage? She had lost Mark, she would be a fool to lose Charlie too. But maybe it was too little, too late. Perhaps it was now her destiny to face this killer alone. It wasn’t a fight she thought she could win, but she would fight it nevertheless.
